


Just off the key of reason

by The_Onion_Wanton



Category: X-Men: Days of Future Past (2014) - Fandom, X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: (she's a lesbian), Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Still Have Powers, Charles is Drunk, assholes wow, background Emma/Moira, background McCoy/Raven, erik is in the closet, trans Hank McCoy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-01
Updated: 2016-04-01
Packaged: 2018-05-30 14:47:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6428491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Onion_Wanton/pseuds/The_Onion_Wanton
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Erik thinks he's straight. Raven thinks her brother is an obnoxious drunk. Charles /knows/ they're both wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just off the key of reason

Everyone's thoughts slowed down when they were drunk. Charles, whose telepathy rarely did, found that he really enjoyed it. He also really enjoyed feeling drunk himself, which was why he found himself here, knocking back a fifth shot in an hour.

“You need to slow down,” Moira laughed.

“You don’t really mean that.”

And she didn’t; her current thoughts, clearly visible both due to his current state of intoxication and their own intensity, were about how pretty the girl across the room was (tall, thin, blonde; celebrating her birthday. Pillow queen— Charles wondered if he ought to slip a warning. Also a mutant. Oh, a Scorpio.)

“I really ought to slip a warning.”

“Charles?” Moira eyed him, amusement now tinged with concern.

He shook his head, gave her a reassuring smile. “Thinking out loud.”

And then he felt it.

Charles— well, not to sound vain, but Charles was good looking. He didn’t need his telepathy to know that, though it was a nice reminder; feeling a stranger’s attraction directed at him was not an unusual happenstance in his everyday life. And right now, somebody wanted him.

“Moira, darling.” He leaned in, raised an eyebrow slightly conspiratorially. “Is there a man near the entrance checking me out?”

—

He’d known this was a bad idea.

Erik Lehnsherr stood at the entrance of the quaint, cramped gay pub Emma had insisted on having her birthday celebration in, uncomfortable and slightly too warm. His Polish History essay was due in two days, he’d had an early morning class three days in a row, and to top it all off, he was straight. It made zero sense for him to be here, but alas, Emma had insisted.  
He’d never been able to say ‘no’ to Emma. She was the only one willing to— and able to, in all honestly— remove the cutlery from all the places he’d jam it into during his more anxious moments. (He’d gotten some in the toaster the last time. She had to take on the diamond form. He was so grateful.)

“Erik!” And speaking of the devil— Emma looked great, as she always did, dressed in a crisp white crop-top and a matching high-waisted skirt. She kissed both his cheeks, squeezed his shoulder. “I am so glad you came.”

“Same,” he lied.

“Lying to a telepath, Erik? Really?” She laughed, leading him towards the group. His eyes still felt drawn to the boy by the bar. “And on her birthday?”

“Sorry, Schatz.”

“No, no, no.” She shook her head, still smiling. “No distracting me with your cute bilingual ways.”

“I’m not just bilingual,” he reminded her, unable to fight back the smile. G-d, did he care for her; she was patient and trustworthy and one of his kind—

He still didn’t see why they couldn’t have celebrated at their place, though.

“Because I want to get drunk and pick up girls, Erik,” she stated with the exasperation of a mother explaining to her son why he can’t have candy before dinner. “Because I want to pick up pretty girls.”

“Kitty lives next door.”

“Erik.”

He laughed.

She smiled at him, good-natured yet relentless. _Go fetch us another round_ , she spoke into his head. “And please, do get yourself a beer.”

“Anything for you, Liebling,” he did a small curtsy, made way towards the bar. Emma’s laughter rang in his head.

“Another round for the table over there, please.” He told the bartender, a pretty blonde girl with dimpled cheeks. “And, uh,”

“Altbier for the gentleman,” someone spoke over him. “My treat.”

Waitress grinned at the speaker. “The whole table, or— “

“Raven.”

Erik watched the interaction in stunned silence. The man— boy?— the person from before— the infuriatingly blue eyed one— was leaning towards him, hand extended.

“Name’s Charles Xavier.” He smiled. He had a cocky, self-satisfied air about him that made Erik slightly tempted to punch it off. “And you’d be— “

“Straight.”

Charles blinked.

“As in— oh, G-d.” Erik laughed, slightly flustered. “I am flattered, very much so, but—“

“Damn, Charlie, back at it with hitting on the straight boys!” The waitress slid a cold beer bottle down the counter. Charles glowered at her. Laughing, she retreated.

“So, yes, anyways.” Erik picked up the beer, shrugged. “I’ll pay for this.”

“You’re straight?” Charles was still looking at him, one eyebrow raised.

Jesus Christ, Erik wanted to spit in his drink. “Yes.”

_Bullshit._

It was so clear, so loud, Erik almost stepped back. He blinked, eyes wide. Charles’ face went a shade paler as the realization kicked in. Erik felt his pulse speed up.

“You’re a telepath!”

“No,” Charles hissed, sent a panicked look around. “No!”

Erik took the hint, lowered his voice. “You’re a mutant!”

Charles’ brow furrowed, eyes darkened. “And you’re not straight.”

Erik felt his jaw clench. “Is that what telepathy is used for nowadays? Picking up guys at gay pubs?”

“Well, I am not usually brought to that,” he leaned in, dangerously close. His breath reeked of liquor. “As most guys frequenting these are not still in the closet.”

Erik stood up straight, exhaled. He could feel the aluminium taps, the door hinges, the locks on the bathroom doors vibrating. “Thank you for the beer.”

He took a long sip; it tasted like proving a point.

Charles watched him, eyes wide. “Are you going to spit that on me?!” He sounded bewildered, as if he had anything to be bewildered by, as if he had the _right_ — “I am a telepath, did you really think you’d catch me unprepared? Jesus— “

Erik worked the beer in his mouth, smirking.

_Swallow that._ He froze. The now warm beer went down his throat, smoothly, beyond his control. Charles was beaming at him, blinking up as innocently as one could in pants that tight.

“You—“

“Me.” Charles winked. Erik felt his blood boil. The hinge in the male bathroom was coming undone.

“Fotze.” And before the thought could even be fully formed – before Charles could ever read them – Erik poured the remainder of his Schumacher down Charles’ shirt.

—

Charles was pissed, in more ways than one. Raven took pity on him after witnessing the little tiff he’d had with Erik Lehnsherr, mutant right activist and a electromagnetic field manipulator, also known as the Biggest Asshole Charles had the misfortune of running into, Jesus _Christ_ —

“Charles, sweetie.” Raven leaned in, placed another drink in front of him. “You need to calm down.”

“I am calm.”

“You’ve been projecting hate vents about the cute German asshole onto me for the last forty minutes,” she deadpanned. “I’ll be surprised if the whole place doesn’t harbour unexplained animosity towards him by now.”

Charles groaned, rubbed at his face. “He deserves it.”

“And you need to slow down the booze intake.  
“God, Raven, you’re worse than my mum.”

A gentle kiss was placed on his forehead; he relaxed, smiled. Raven leaned back, returned to her workload. “As if that’s possible.”

He spent the next couple of minutes nursing his Jack Daniels— perhaps switching liquors wasn’t the brightest idea but reason be damned— watching Moira and the pretty Scorpio shamelessly flirt next to the pool table. His head was pulsing, drunken haze enveloping both his and almost every mind in the room an overwhelming combination.

Also. He really needed to throw up.

Knocking back the last of his drink— he wasn’t going to let it go to waste!— he made way towards the bathroom.

The doors were broken. He was starting to hate this place.

He retched up most of his dinner, and then some more. The room was starting to spin. He regretted some of his choices.

Footsteps behind him. Charles groaned.

“Oh, I’m sorry—“

His stomach dropped. He could feel the exact moment the intruder’s gut did the same.

“Oh.”

“Nothing to be sorry for, my friend,” Charles spat out, struggled up to his feet. He could feel worry radiating of Erik’s brain, and it was pissing him off. “Now, if you don’t mind—“ He grasped onto the wall, gestured wildly before him— “I’d like to reach the sink.”

“You’re plastered.”

“I am _perfectly_ —“ Holy shit everything was swirling. The floor rushed up to meet his face- a pair of warm arms held him up. “Fine, thank you!”

“You need help.”

“I do not—“ Another twist, too quick—

He threw up down Erik Lehnsherr’s shirt.

—

Charles coughed, face scrunched up in- pain? Disgust? Some combination of both, most likely. Erik grimaced at the stomach acid now covering the front of his sweater.

_Guess I had that coming._

“You absolutely did, you _bastard_ ,” Charles muttered, face buried in Erik’s shoulder.

Erik sighed. “Are you never too drunk to invade my mind?”

“Your mind is screaming at me, excuse you.” Charles sagged in his arms. “At least you have the decency to think in English—“

_Na, mein Freund, du hast es offensichtlich beschrien._

Charles groaned, loud and whiny. Erik laughed.

“You need a cab home,” he announced. Charles thumped his head against Erik’s chest; Erik decided to read it as a sign of agreement. “You still remember where you live, right?”

“Don’t be patronizing,” Charles muttered. Erik smirked, slid an arm around the other’s torso.

“Sure thing, Häschen.”

Another groan.

Erik snorted. “Emma was right,” he admitted quietly. Charles hummed in response. “This is fun.”

They made it out of the pub and onto the sidewalk, crisp evening air doing wonders after the stiff heat of the pub. Charles nearly threw up again; Erik helped him lean over a trashcan, patted his back in what he hoped was a calming manner. (The man might have been a jerk but he was still unwell. Erik had a bit of a protective streak).

“Do you ever stop flattering yourself?” Charles groaned into the trashcan, throat scratched hoarse.

Erik laughed, surprised. “Do you?”

A pause. “I guess not, no.”

He had to laugh again.

The waitress— Raven— showed up at one point, told Erik to call of the taxi, that her girlfriend was coming to pick Charles up. She thanked him, with a hint of a flirty note, for taking care of her brother, and ruffled Charles’ hair.

“So that’s where all the good genes have gone,” Erik noted.

Raven laughed, shook her head. “I’m adopted, actually,” she confessed. “But you’re awfully cute.”

“You are taken, Raven!” Charles shouted from his place on the pavement. (Erik had placed him there when his shoulder got tired.) Raven just laughed some more.

The girlfriend in question was tall, lanky, sporting a pair of thick-rimmed glasses and a pale lilac cardigan. Raven pressed a quick kiss to her lips, pinched her cheek, and then rushed back to work. Erik helped her get Charles onto the backseat, expressed his condolences for the inside of the car Charles would no doubt throw up on.

“It’s okay,” she said, sounding resigned. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

Erik watched them drive away. He wondered if he could have snatched a ride home.

—

Charles woke up feeling like ten trucks had run him over and then returned to shit on his cerebellum. He made his way to the kitchen, half-walking and half-crawling. McCoy was already up, reading through her student’s thesis.

“Mornin,” He muttered.

She looked up, smiled sympathetically. “We tried to get you to drink water,” she said, sounding apologetic. “You made us leave the room.”

Charles groaned. That did sound like him.

“That was Xarles Chavier,” he rationalized, pouring himself some electrolyte water. “He is awful.”

“Aw, you’re referencing Jenna Marbles.” Raven appeared at the doorway, kissed her girlfriend’s cheek. “You know it’s bad when he’s referencing Jenna Marbles.”

McCoy nodded, eyes back on the work at hand.

“How much do you even remember?”

Charles sipped at his drink, frowned. “Uh— Moira wanted to shag the Scorpio— “

“The blonde bombshell is a Scorpio?” Raven sat down. “Oh, poor Moira.”

_So they did it?_

“Are you too hungover to speak like a normal person again?”

_Abnormal? Thought you went by Homo superioris._

“Yes, super homo indeed.” Raven rolled her eyes, grabbed a banana out of the fruit basket. “Do you remember the cute German dude?”

“The cute— “ Charles’ heart dropped down to his stomach, blood froze over. A grin spread across Raven’s face; even McCoy looked up, cringed.

“Oh no.”

“You totally did.”

“No, no, no.”

“He did what?” McCoy asked. Raven was laughing. Charles felt like burying himself under ten blankets and never coming out again. Theoretically, he could get his PhD from his room. Theoretically.

“He threw up on the hottest guy that walked the place in the last decade.”

“ _Noo._ ”

“Raven, you’ve worked there for eight months.”

“Shut up, Beast.”

McCoy grinned, blushed. The pair eskimo kissed, giggling.

“I’m going to throw up,” Charles announced. “Check on me in two hours.”

—

Charles was running late for his lecture. He’d spent most of the weekend nursing his hangover (not moping, whatever Raven chose to believe) and then rushed his microbiology homework the night prior— and now, he was running late. The day was warm, slightly cloudy, the crowd so incredibly slow.

He bumped into someone— fifth person today, his record was terrible— and nearly dropped his stack of textbooks.

“Terribly sorry, I’m in a— “

He knew that mind. His heart stopped dead.

“Charles Xavier?” Erik’s smug, accent-laced voice asked. Charles swallowed, met Erik Lehnsherr’s eyes. They were even prettier in the daylight. “I see you’ve survived.”

He stood frozen for a second— then his brain hit overdrive.

_Have a good day_ , he spoke into the other man’s head.

Erik’s smile widened, eyes sparkled with amusement. “You too, Charles.” A clasp on the shoulder, friendly enough. Charles felt a shiver run up his spine. “See you around.”

**Author's Note:**

> Many many thanks to @andrassysribcage for being wonderful and helping with german and spelling and p much everything  
> also @caledfwlch for editing 
> 
> sorry for the scorpio hate i s2g dont mean it. i have two scorpio friends.


End file.
